


Strange New Worlds, Familiar Old Faces

by Stregatrek



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, old married spirk, post-The Voyage Home, pre-the Final Frontier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27812920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stregatrek/pseuds/Stregatrek
Summary: An away mission that goes right, for once
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Kirk/Spock Secret Santa 2020





	Strange New Worlds, Familiar Old Faces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VTsuion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/gifts).



“Captain, I’m receiving a distress call,” Uhura says. “I believe it’s…” she presses her ear piece with her middle and first finger, brow furrowing as she listens. “It’s not clear, sir, but it sounds like they’re having some power trouble.”  


Jim nods thoughtfully, fingers under his chin. “Can you triangulate the source?”  


Uhura turns back to her station. “Yes, sir, it… it seems to be coming from a small planet, class L.”  


“Put it on the viewscreen,”  


The planetoid is green-gray, hanging in space, and Jim leans forward in his chair.  


“There appears to be a small colony in the southern hemisphere of the smallest continent.” At the science station, Spock looks up. “This is most improbable, Captain.”  


“Jim,” the correction is gentle, a hand at the small of Spock’s back as Kirk peers around his husband at the science station readings. “Damn, that _is_ improbable,”  


“Colorful metaphors, Jim?”  


With a smile, the Captain says, “Readings like that, Spock, would seem to call for one, don’t you agree?”  


Spock makes an almost-expression which is very nearly pursed lips. “I defer to your expertise.”  


Jim can’t help but grin up at him. _God,_ he missed this, in the short time it was gone. Not that Spock is the same, not by a long shot, but it’s still Spock and always will be. 

“Well then, Mr. Spock, let’s go say hello,”  
* 

As their molecules settle, Jim looks around, and is hit with an immediate wave of sensory overload. “Spock,” he puts a hand to his eyes. “You didn’t mention this place was-” he can’t think of a word, anything to describe the way the environment seems to be shifting around him, blurry. “Is there something in the air?”  


Spock’s tricorder is out. “Negative, Captain. It appears to be a result of an abundant usage of several pigments the human eye is not adapted to processing.”  


“Anything we can do about it?” Jim looks between Spock and Bones, who’s got his fingers pressed to his temples.  


“I believe the most prudent course of action may be to treat the symptoms- the environment will not change, and short-term adaptations may require a greater commitment of time than is feasible.”  


Bones grumbles but adjusts a hypo. Injecting first Jim, then himself, he holds the hypo up with a raised eyebrow in Spock’s direction. The Vulcan shakes his head minutely. “Suit yourself,” McCoy returns the hypo to his med kit and the three of them stand still a moment, giving the concoction time to work. Jim smiles as their surroundings become less of a tangled blur. “This place sure is something,” he says, taking in the twisting architecture, buildings and nature near-indistinguishable from one another.  


“The distress signal is emanating from this direction,” Spock gestures, and the three of them fall into a familiar pattern, following the tricorder readings.  


A few hundred yards later, they meet with someone Jim can only assume is a native of the planet- very close to humanoid in appearance. “Hello,” he tries. “I’m Captain Kirk of the starship _Enterprise_. We’re responding to your distress beacon- our, ah, our hails didn’t seem to be reaching the surface of your planet.”  


The alien smiles. “Ah, this way.” They are led down a side street, into a building that makes Jim’s head spin with its colors, something in the air tasting of tangy electricity. “Here you are,” their accidental guide bows themself out, and Jim turns to thank them before proceeding through the doors before him.  


“Hello,” he leads, “I’m Captain Kirk; we’re responding to your distress call.”  


“Ah!” The official behind a desk doesn’t appear unhappy to be interrupted in the slightest. “You must be from _Enterprise_ ,”  


Jim cocks his head; he can almost feel Spock’s left eyebrow raise. “We… are, yes. Forgive the question, but- how did you know?”  


“You have the same-” the alien gestures at his own face. “Our cultural memory is strong. We know those from _Enterprise_.”  


“I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” Jim smiles his most disarming smile. “Has a… member of your species been aboard Enterprise before?” With a shake of the head, the alien answers, “One from _Enterprise_ has been aboard a travel-pod of ours. Many years ago.”  


“Captain,” Spock is staring at the tricorder, its settings toggled to tie in with his translator. “I believe he is referring to those ‘from _Enterprise_ ’ as a species.”  


Jim’s brow rises in understanding; he grins. “Oh,” he says, looking at their host. “I see, yes, we call our species ‘Humans,’ with the exception of Mr. Spock, here, who is in fact a… Vulcan.”  


“Vulcan! Yes, we know those too. Welcome!”  


“Thank you,” Spock inclines his head graciously.  


Jim steps into the pause. “Your… transmission, ah, indicated some kind of power trouble. How can we be of assistance?”  


The official tilts his head. “Our generator is quite old. It is experiencing intermittent failures, and unfortunately much of the maintenance staff is on the homeworld for a festival.”  


“Ah, these things always sneak up, don’t they?” Bones is smiling, rocking on his heels. “If the generator’s anything like the rest of the planet, must be a job to keep it going. Little R and R every now and then to get away from all this color… but then, you see it better than we do, don’t you?”  


With a slight chuckle, the official acknowledges, “The other from _Enterprise_ had some difficulty with our environment as well. If it becomes overwhelming, we have found that a period of sleep tends to help,”  


“Thank you, we’ll… keep that in mind. As for the generator. Best laid plans of mice and men, and all that.”  


“Yes, we have recently transitioned our computer, responsible for scheduling… it was an oversight not to allow for the festival, but-” the official spreads his hands with a smile. “What can be done? I am grateful for whatever assistance you can offer. Come, I’ll show you to the generator.” He gestures them out ahead of him, laughing. “I will return to correcting calendars later- when too many options are available, I suppose this is the result.”  


“On my homeworld… the one thing we all have in common is free will. It’s… made for some interesting times.”  


“Your home world houses species which are not made of the same organic structures?”  


Jim laughs. “Well, that wasn’t quite- I mean, I don’t actually know. I suppose there might be forms of gaseous life we haven’t discovered yet,”  


“Unlikely, Captain,” Spock comments smoothly. “However there is a great deal of genetic diversity on Earth, and there remain unanswered questions regarding the intelligence of many marine species.”  


“Well, you’d know,” Jim does his best to keep a straight face, but he can tell from Spock’s raised eyebrow that he’s seeing himself in Jim’s memory, in the jumpsuit he wore under his robe, swimming in the Cetacean Institute’s tank. “Tell me,” he looks back to the official-turned-guide. “Is there great biodiversity on your world?”  


The guide smiles. “Oh, yes. Everything we do is alive,”  


Trading a questioning glance with Bones, Jim shrugs. Translator must be acting up again.  


As they walk further into the city, the pigments and movements become less overwhelming- the human mind, Jim knows, is a remarkably adaptable thing. The aliens around them don’t seem at all discomfited, and Jim spots more than one species in the bustle.  


The spires of the city soar into the sky, leaning together to form a latticework ceiling enclosing them far, far overhead. “Did you ever read Asimov, Mr. Spock?”  


“I did, Captain.” Spock tips his head back.  


“Remember the caves of steel?”  


“I do, Captain,”  


“Notice any similarities?”  


“I have, Captain,”  


Jim elbows him. Spock looks down at him, a golden laugh deep in his sable eyes. Jim rolls his own eyes in response, not bothering to stop smiling. He feels a brush of affection from their bond and rests his hand lightly at the small of Spock’s back as they follow the winding, moving pathway. The guide turns down something Jim doesn’t recognize quite as a sidestreet but could be, from its relative narrowness and desertion. The spires lean closer, closing in nearer overhead, and the colors that adorn them at such proximity are overwhelming- there’s something else, too, some kind of buzz in the air that Jim can’t identify.  


Their guide mimics the gesture, tipping his head back. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”  


Against lying as a rule, Jim chuckles. “Well,”  


“Perhaps we have a differing sense of aesthetics,” Spock says diplomatically.  


“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Bones mutters, less diplomatically.  


Jim glances over his shoulder at his CMO with a smile that is both fond and long-suffering. “Give yourself an anti-nausea shot if you’ve got to, Bones,” he says, closing his eyes briefly and relying on his hand at Spock’s elbow, the vague perception of himself through their bond. It helps, with the overwhelming surroundings and more generally, to lose himself however briefly in the bond. The place where he’s holding his mind, brushing against Spock’s, is like returning to a favorite library. Cool and orderly, welcome and well-remembered.  


“The surroundings of your world are somewhat overwhelming to human minds,” Spock explains to their guide.  


He nods understandingly. “Yes, the other from _Enterprise_ had the same problem. You will feel better soon. And as I mentioned, a brief rest may help if you do not. Our colony is much less concentrated than our ship, but he experienced some rather nausea, if the reports are correct. Don’t hesitate to step away if need be.”  


Jim smiles, opening his eyes. “Thank you. I, ah, certainly hope we can avoid that.”  


The tunnel finally lets out, and Spock raises one smug eyebrow at McCoy, who does administer an anti-nausea hypo.  


Their guide points. “There is the generator.”  


“That’s… most unusual,”  


The official lights up with something Jim can only assume is pride. “It is the oldest functioning source of power on the planet,”  


“Impressive,” he says, though he’s starting to get a headache from the proximity.  


“This is our first colony on a planet with an atmosphere similar to your own,” the guide continues. “For a time the power transfer mechanisms were corroded by the oxygen in the air,”  


“Much as occurs with the oxidation of metals on Earth,” Spock notes.  


The guide tips his head. “Does it? Well, perhaps you _can_ help us, then!”  


Jim gestures one-handed at the strange piece of equipment. “Is this… the only one that’s not working?”  


“Indeed, Captain Kirk, the generator is not functioning correctly. We require it for a large amount of the city’s power.”  


Bones points. “That little thing?”  


The proud smile is back. “As I said, this is a very old colony. That generator could power a starship- I assure you, a city is no trouble.”  


With a low whistle, Bones rocks back on his heels, bouncing on his toes. “I guess once you make something that can go warp speed, keepin’ the lights on is no heavy lift,”  


“Exactly, doctor. But it’s broken- or at least, not functioning optimally. And our chief repair technician is currently on the homeworld… we can give you specifications, of course, and we have an _idea_ of what the matter is, but…”  


Jim nods, understanding. “Mr. Spock, we’ll schedule engineering rotations down. Give Mr. Scott your full assistance. See what Uhura thinks, too- a system as alien as this, it can’t hurt to have her opinion.”  


“Yes, Captain,” Spock acknowledges.  


Jim turns back to the guide. “Perhaps… for the rest of my crew, shoreleave rotations might be arranged?” He doubts they’ll get much relaxation, in an environment that’s making his skin buzz like static electricity, but anthropologically…  


“We would welcome visitors from _Enterprise_!”  


Thinking that he’ll extend the invitation to the crew with a word of warning, Jim flips open his communicator. “Kirk to _Enterprise_. We’ll be… staying in orbit to run repairs on a generator. Get a fix on these coordinates and have Mr. Scott beam down. Tell him… to be ready for a little headache.”  


“Aye-aye, sir,” Uhura acknowledges.  
* 

They stay in orbit two more days. The more adventurous members of the crew beam down- Sulu actually has what he describes as a good time. Other reports are less glowing, but the planet _is_ interesting, particularly for the exobiology teams.  


When Scott has the generator repaired, Jim beams down to the official’s office, Spock alongside him. The city is more manageable at night, and the official is grateful. It’s one of their easier away missions, all told, and after bidding the man farewell Jim is grateful to step into the night. He tips his head back. “At least the stars look the same,”  


“Indeed; their atmosphere is not sufficiently different from your own to distort light wavelengths.”  


“Always good to know there’s science behind the comfort.”  


“There is science behind most things,”  


Spock offers his fingers, and Jim gives him a gentle kiss, smiling. “Quite an unexpected detour, wouldn’t you say?”  


“Indeed, Captain, though I find their adaptations to an atmosphere dissimilar to their own to be… fascinating.”  


With a grin, Jim answers, “You would.” He turns away from the view to look up at his bondmate. “Well- onward and upward?”  


“‘Up’ is something of a fraught concept in space,” Spock begins, but when he feels Jim’s laughter through their bond simply raises an eyebrow. “Indeed, Captain.”  



End file.
